Unhinged
by kclaura2003
Summary: A group of survivors from Atlanta abruptly arrive on the Greene family farm looking for a lost little girl and trying to save a severely injured boy. As if that isn't enough, someone has been stealing from the property. Beth tries to catch the thief but what happens when she is the one who ends up captured? "Even the sanest people get unhinged sometimes." Beth/Daryl, AU, S2.
1. Thief In The Night

**Hello there, thanks for checking out my story. :)**

**Many, many thanks to Amberpower who came up with the inital plot of this story and who has been my guide during the writing process. :-***

**This is a very AU, Bethyl fic, set in S2. I know its blasphemous but for the purposes of this story, he does not have the motorcycle because it will take place mostly in the woods/countryside. Mostly Beth-centric, does go into Daryl's POV sometimes. They might be a little OOC, especially Daryl but he is meant to be a little mentally "off" in this story. Rated M for language, violent and sexual content and dark themes. I do not own The Walking Dead. **

Chapter One: Thief In The Night

"Whaddya think about them people that showed up here yesterday?"

Beth cast a sideways glance at her boyfriend, Jimmy, and shrugged her shoulders.

"I don't know," She responded. "I just hope that man's little boy is gonna be OK."

They were in the kitchen. Beth slathered some peanut butter on the last remaining slices of sandwich bread they had and pressed them together. It wasn't much but she figured they'd appreciate it nonetheless. The group that had abruptly arrived on the Greene family's doorstep looked like they hadn't eaten in days.

Jimmy leaned against the counter, looking out the window over the sink at the strangers setting up camp on the front yard. He took a bite out of a peach.

"Yeah, Otis is really torn up about what happened." Jimmy commented as he chewed the fruit, referring to the Greene family's long time farmhand.

Otis had gone out hunting in the late afternoon the day before and instead of bringing back a deer: he brought back two former cops, one them sprinting frantically, carrying his wounded son in his arms. Maggie, Beth's older sister, was sent out on horseback to find the man's wife and the people they had been traveling with. Hershel, Beth's and Maggie's father, was in his bedroom where the boy lay. He was still alive but just barely. Hershel had taken a lot blood from the boy's father, Rick; Beth thought she heard him say his name was.

Beth took a butter knife from the drawer and began to divide up the sandwiches as best she could. Hershel had been a veterinarian for over thirty years but something like this made Beth wonder if he was really going to be able to save the child.

"I just don't get why they were out there in the middle of the woods anyways," Jimmy went on.

"They weren't out there for giggles and grins, Jimmy," Beth said. "They said they were looking for this little girl. They were stuck on Highway 20 when a bunch of…"

She trailed off and gave Jimmy a sad look and he returned it, biting his lower lip. Jimmy, Otis, his wife, Patricia, and the Greene's did not know what to call the people that now roamed the earth whom fed off the living. Hershel called them "sick people" and that's what they stuck to.

"Anyway…somehow a whole bunch of sick people passed by and they had to hide. Somewhere in the middle of all that, this little girl ran off in the woods and that's why they were out there."

Sophia, they said her name was. She was twelve years old with shoulder-length strawberry blonde hair, wearing a blue T-shirt with a rainbow on it and carried a homemade doll. Beth felt herself shudder slightly thinking about the girl and how she would hate to be that young out there, all alone. Beth glanced out the kitchen window and her eyes scanned for the girl's mother. She was standing next to the old man with the RV and the pretty blonde woman.

"Well, even still," Jimmy said. "I mean…that kid musta been really close to the deer Otis shot. I heard your dad say the deer helped stop the bullet from penetrating deeper."

Beth slammed the butter knife down on the counter, making Jimmy jump. Frustrated, she ran her hand through her blonde hair.

"Beth," Jimmy said, softly, moving toward her. "I'm sorry, baby. I didn't mean to upset you…I'll shut up."

Would you?, Beth almost said to him but instead she bit her lower lip and let her boyfriend embrace her. She felt him rest his head on top of hers and his hands rubbing her back.

"Hey," Jimmy whispered. "It's gonna be OK. Your dad knows what he's doing. I overheard that cop guy…not the one with the son but that other one…the big guy? I heard him and Otis talking about running up to our school where the FEMA station was. They'll gonna go get some medical stuff. Everything's gonna be OK."

Beth rested her head on Jimmy's chest and shut her eyes. She wanted to believe him but it just seemed so unlikely.

"I gotta pass out some food to those people," Beth said, untangling herself from Jimmy's arms. "Maybe go learn some names. Kinda looks like they're gonna be here awhile with one of their children shot and the other one gone missing."

Jimmy nodded. "They said they were headed toward Fort Benning but…damn…that's such a long ways away. I don't know how they planned to do that. Especially with that ancient RV that one guy's got."

Jimmy stopped when he saw the sad look on Beth's face and apologized again. Beth waved him off, fetched the plate of sandwiches and started for the door.

"Hey Beth," Jimmy said, making her pause.

"Yeah?" She answered.

"This probably isn't a good time to mention this but somebody stole another one of our chickens again. I was in the coop this morning and saw one of 'em is gone."

Beth turned to face him.

"Are you serious?" She asked. Jimmy nodded his head.

One of the farm's chickens ended up missing a week and half ago so she knew it wasn't the new people on their land. Somebody was apparently sneaking around the farm at night, breaking into the coop and stealing their food.

"I haven't had a chance to tell anyone yet…with all the other stuff going on now." Jimmy explained. "I figured it must have been very early morning yesterday. 'Cause you know me and Otis get up at the crack of dawn and get to work. Whoever's doing it is smart. They know how to pick the lock and cover their tracks n'everything. He's changing it up too, last time he snuck in at night; this time he sneaks in right before dawn. "

Beth must have looked distraught because immediately Jimmy tried to console her.

"I don't think they're dangerous…whoever they are. Obviously they're just hungry. With all these people on the land now the thief will stay away. He's too likely to get caught now. There's power in numbers."

Beth nodded. "OK, thanks, Jimmy." She turned to leave, adding: "Don't say anything about it to my dad, though. He already has enough on his plate."

Beth went outside and passed out the simple sandwiches she made. The old man with the RV was Dale. The blonde woman was Andrea. The woman whose daughter was missing was Carol. The young Asian guy Maggie was flirting with was Glenn. The black man went by "T-Dog". Beth learned the man with the wounded son was indeed named Rick and his son was Carl. Rick's wife was Lori. The other man that had been there at the time of the shooting accident was Shane. They all thanked her the food and told her to tell her father they were all "very grateful for everything he's doing to save Carl and for letting us stay here."

Beth smiled and nodded and told each one of them: "It was no problem". Her eyes scanned the land and they fell on the barn. It was "no problem" now but for how long? She prayed that boy would recover fast and the lost girl would show up soon before any of them discovered what was inside the barn. Everything had been going fine, as fine as the end of the world could be, until these people showed up. Beth couldn't help but feel a little bit of resentment toward them. She felt bad for everything they had been through but why did they have to come here? Why did they have to disrupt what little peace her family had left?

Beth's mind wandered to the chicken coop thief Jimmy mentioned and she heard herself softly gasp. What if he tried to get in the barn one night? He…or she…whoever it was would be in for a rude awakening and one they better wake up from fast. What then? Their secret would be wide out in the open.

**...**

Later that night in bed, Beth couldn't sleep. Otis and Shane had already set out for the high school to get the supplies Hershel needed and they had been gone for hours. Everybody was trying so hard to put on a brave front, to show they weren't worried but reading their faces was like reading a book. Maggie had told Beth to go on to bed reassurring her than everything would turn out just fine. Beth was lying on her back staring up at her ceiling listening to the murmuring going on downstairs.

"It's been long enough. Where are they?!" That was the wife, Lori.

"Just give 'em some more time. They'll be here." Rick.

"I really hope so."said Patricia.

Beth felt a single tear roll down her cheek. If anything happened to Otis, she would be crushed. He and Patricia had been working for the family since before she was born. Maybe even before Maggie was born, she wasn't sure. All she knew was, she'd lose it if she lost another person she loved.

The wind rustled the willow tree outside her bedroom window. Beth raised up to look out the window at the tents Rick's group had set up. It looked like most of them were either asleep or downstairs with Rick and Lori trying to provide moral support. The breeze blew again and she watched the limp branches sway back and forth. She decided to try to sleep but right before she went to lay down -something caught her eye.

Beth rubbed her eyes, jumped out of bed and kneeled beside her window sill. She watched the shadowy figure quickly but stealthily move across the land. She could tell the thief was being extra cautious due to the unexpected presence of the new people on the property. Yet, they moved in and out of the darkness like an expert. From this distance, Beth could not make out the face of the thief but assumed it was a man just based on height alone. Something bounced on his back as he maneuvered his way around the RV and the tents, whatever it was looked too heavy to be a just a backpack – it was a weapon of some kind.

Beth grew nervous but she tried to remember her boyfriend's words about the thief being harmless. However, Jimmy also predicted the culprit would be too scared to try anything with the farm being so occupied now and he had been wrong about that as well.

This guy's got the nerves of steel, Beth thought as she watched the figure scamper across the mini-camp site and toward the barn.

The barn! Beth panicked. He breaks into the barn, we're all screwed!

However, the thief only stopped at the barn for a moment, to catch his breath presumably and to contemplate his next move. Beth looked toward the chicken coop and back to where the thief was. Indeed, his eyes were on the chicken coop.

Beth found herself hurriedly dressing: throwing on a pair of faded blue jeans, a wrinkled sleeveless tank top and boots. She threw open her closet and quickly rummaged through all the clothes and found her buried aluminum softball bat.

She crept down the stairs, praying nobody would see her. Nobody did. They were all in the den still talking about Rick's son and why Otis and Shane were still yet to return.

Beth sprinted out the front door and made a mad dash for the chicken coop. She felt her heart beating wildly with each step she ran. She told herself to turn around, to let it go – no chicken was worth losing her life over. But she had to see. She had to know. She had to at least try to protect her family's land.

She snuck around the back of the coop, which was barely more than a shed. Beth spotted the lock on ground he had picked. She pressed her back up against the shed, made herself as flush as she could, raised the bat above her head and waited. She listened to the sounds of the thief inside shuffling around, the hens cackling, the feathers ruffling, a neckbone breaking and then silence.

Slowly, the door of the coop opened. Beth shut her eyes and lowered the bat down hard and heard somebody curse words that made her blush. She opened her eyes and saw she had missed his head but must have got him in the shoulder because he had dropped the chicken and grabbed his left side.

Beth didn't have to time to think about what came next. She found herself being wrestled to the ground by a partially masked man. A red bandanna covered the lower half of his face but even in the pitch dark, Beth could see his blue eyes burning into hers as he struggled to hold her down.

"Help!" Beth tried to exclaim but one of his large hands covered her mouth and the other one pinned down her wrist while she squirmed underneath his weight.

"Shut up!" He growled. His voice was raspy and more Southern than hers. Beth bit into his hand as hard as she could tasting dirt, then blood.

"Son of a bitch!" The man cried. The pain of the bite caused him to loosen his grip on her for a second and Beth seized the opportunity to knee him the groin, which caused him to writher in more pain, rolling off her.

Beth sprung to her feet. The bat had rolled only a few inches away. She made a dash for it, picked it up, turned around only to see a streak coming at her, tackling her like a linebacker and knocking out all the wind that was left inside of her.

"Are you crazy?!" was the last thing she heard him say before she blacked out.


	2. Red Roof House

**Thanks for all the reviews, favorites, and follows so quickly! :-***

**Daryl & Merle calling the walkers "eaters" comes from the Survival Instinct video game.**

Chapter Two: Red Roof House

_Two Weeks Earlier - Atlanta, Georgia. _

"Arrrrrrrgh!" Daryl Dixon grunted. _Bang! Bang! Bang! _He popped three more of those things that used to be people. "Eaters", he and Merle liked to call them. Daryl glanced back at his older brother trailing behind him, also firing off rounds left and right.

"Keep it going, baby brotha," Merle called out to him. "Get to the truck!"

The truck, right. Keep it going, Daryl thought. They rounded a corner and headed down a narrow alley that would lead them out on Marietta Street where the blue '73 Ford truck was waiting, providing somebody else didn't already jack it.

In the truck was the radio that told the two brothers to head to Atlanta when the shit hit the fan. They drove down from the Northern backwoods of Georgia, listening the government broadcast fading in and out sputtering: "The city of Atlanta has stationed a FEMA safe-zone. Go directly to the city. Do not stop on the highways. Do not touch or try to help any infected persons. FEMA, the CDC and the Georgia National Guard are working together to maintain safety and order. Help is on the way. Please stay calm. This is not a test. This is an emergency government broadcast. The city of Atlanta has stationed a FEMA safe-zone…"

It had been a safe-zone until it had been overrun - too many people, not enough supplies. People were coming in infected or bringing in loved ones infected. They'd die, come back from the dead and bite others. It's hard to control a city that already had a population of over four hundred thousand to begin with. The virus spread like wildfire. FEMA ran out of supplies, the CDC shut it's doors and last Daryl and Merle heard - the military was planning to nuke the city anytime now. All emergency personnel had checked out.

That's why we gotta get to the truck, Daryl thought as he clocked an eater in the face with his Horton Scout crossbow. Merle was following behind him, now hitting the freaks with the butt of his Winchester rifle. They reached the end of the alley to find the truck was still parked on the other side of the street near the post office. Only there was a herd of eaters between them and the safety of the vehicle.

"Daryl," Merle said. "Sneak 'round that away and I'll distract 'em. Get the truck and bring it 'round to me."

He was about to object to the plan but Daryl knew there was no time to think about it. Merle went first, charging in like a solider on the battlefield, he had a stint the Army, after all. He fired off rifle rounds, despite knowing the risk of drawing in even more walking dead corpses and Daryl made a run for the truck.

He bashed in the faces of a few that made a grab at him and reached the truck, flung open the door, dived in and cranked the engine. A few eaters were on to him and soon he heard them banging on the side of the truck, clawing at the windows, their sick yellow eyes glaring at him, their mouthing snarling and hissing.

Daryl put the truck in reverse, backed over a few eaters and abruptly jerked it into forward gear sending those on his hood flying. He peeled out making a beeline toward Merle, who had now run out of ammo and was taking them on one-by-one, using his rifle as a bat.

"C'mon, ya ugly sons of bitches!" Merle taunted with each hit.

Daryl swerved sharply, broad siding some other vehicles on the road and a few eaters. His foot was still on the gas pedal as he leaned over, flung open the passenger door and yelled:

"Merle! Get in!"

Merle took some final swings and turned to jump in. He was halfway in the truck when a eater sunk her rotten fingernails into his back, tearing through a good layer of skin.

"Muthafucker!" Merle cried as he hit her off with the rifle butt. The eater ended up tearing the weapon from his hands before she let go. Merle crawled inside and slammed the door shut. He lay on his left side, groaning with pain, on the passenger seat while Daryl floored the gas pedal and got the hell out of Atlanta.

They were heading south, that's all Daryl knew from the bobbing compass on the dashboard. On the way out, the brothers heard the helicopters droning in, hovering over the city.

"They're gonna try to herd 'em out," Merle moaned. " Fore they nuke the place."

Daryl glanced over at his brother. There was blood all over the seat. Merle was slouched up against the window, his head bobbing up and down. Daryl reached over and touched his forehead. Merle slapped his hand away.

"Since when are you all touchy-feely?" Merle snickered.

Daryl shot him an annoyed glare. His brother had been scratched by one of those things and there was no telling how much time there was left. Yet Merle was still being his usual, ornery pain-in-the-ass self.

"Yer burning up." Daryl said. "I'm gonna pull over."

"No, yer not!" Merle insisted. "Keep on drivin', _Darlena. _I'm gonna be just fine."

Daryl cringed at the stupid nickname Merle liked to call him in order to get under his skin. It worked and Merle knew that.

"Hey, I thought I told ya not to pull over!" Merle cried. His eyes were closed but he feel the truck rolling to a stop.

"I'm not," Daryl answered. "Wake up and look at this shit, man."

Daryl put the truck in park as Merle opened his eyes. The stretch of highway in front of them was now a parking lot of abandoned vehicles for what looked like for miles. The brothers gaped at the sight, not quite sure what to do next.

"What the hell happened?" Daryl asked, rhetorically. "What'd they do - just leave their cars here?"

Merle shrugged his shoulders and then winced at the pain it triggered from the deep scratch on his back.

"I dunno," Merle said. "But what we got here is a goldmine. Let's search all the cars. I bet there's some good stuff just waiting to be claimed."

Daryl snorted. "You mean there's probably some prescription drugs you wanna swipe."

Merle grinned for his answer and Daryl scoffed.

"Wait here." Daryl told him. "You shouldn't move right now."

"Aw, no way, baby brotha." Merle teased, putting his hand on the door handle. "I wanna go on the scavenger hunt, too. Why do you get to have all the fun?"

"Merle, I'm not asking ya - I'm telling ya! Stay here! Don't move a muscle." Daryl ordered.

For a second Daryl thought he actually succeeded in scaring his older brother into submission but that Cheshire cat grin Merle was so good at making slowly spread across his face.

"OK, Darlena." Merle teased.

Daryl scowled at him before he got out of the truck and slammed the door shut. He grabbed his crossbow from the bed of the trunk, slung it over his shoulder and started to carefully search the cars.

He still couldn't figure out what happened. Did all these people leave the city, too, only to run out of gas and be left stranded on the highway? Flies swarmed around a body in a Crown Victoria. The person had been dead so long, they looked almost skeletal. Daryl wondered why these dead bodies didn't re-animate. He knew the dead would sometimes go into a "sleep-mode" if there was no fresh meat around but if they went without eating did they actually starve?

Hell if I know, Daryl thought as he opened a passenger door of a Chevy truck. He went through most of the vehicles coming away with: cigarettes, clothes, a set of knives, a Colt .45, some ammo, two sleeping bags, a pair of binoculars, a shovel, a first-aid kit, a plastic gas canister with fuel still in it, a lighter, a foot of rope, and various OTC and prescription drugs for Merle.

When Daryl got back to the truck, his brother had disappeared.

"Son of a bitch," Daryl grumbled. "Merle! Where are you?! Get back here! _Merle!"_

His voice seemed to echo for miles off the abandoned cars and for a moment there was no answer.

Daryl sighed and started throwing the supplies he found in the truck bed. There came a low moan on the other side of the truck, that made Daryl jump, and reach for his knife.

"Daryl…" The voice mumbled. "I'm o'er here."

It was Merle. Daryl carefully walked around the length of truck to the other side and found his brother slumped on the ground near the tire. Daryl hurried to his side and tried to lift him up but Merle groaned.

"No, no, no…Don't touch me! God! It hurts! Did ya find anything?" Merle asked but Daryl ignored him.

"I told you to stay put. Lemme see yer back." Daryl put his hand on Merle's shoulder and pulled him forward so he could see the scratch. His sleeveless shirt was soaked in blood. The eater had torn completely through the fabric leaving a claw-mark rip in the shirt.

Daryl grabbed Merle's shirt and began ripping it off despite Merle's protests and swatting. Once the shirt was completely off, Daryl saw just how bad the damage was. The eater had almost ripped him down to the backbone.

"Jesus Christ, Merle." Daryl gasped. He ran to the truck bed, grabbed the first-aid kit and was back at Merle's side.

"Hang on there, brotha. Yer gonna make it. I found some stuff here." Daryl said, noticing how shaky his voice was; noticing how he didn't even sound like himself. He flung open the plastic lid on the container. He rummaged through the gauzes, band-aids and medical tape. He found one anti-septic wipe left and tore open the package with his teeth.

"Yer gonna be OK, Merle. Jesus…Just relax…alright? I'm gonna clean it and get it bandaged up."

Merle was strangely silent. His eyes were halfway closed. When Daryl touched Merle's forehead again it was like the surface of a lit stove.

"Yer gonna be OK…yer gonna be OK, Merle." Daryl found himself repeating over and over despite the severity of the wound. It seemed nothing like he did helped. The bleeding could not be stopped. Merle kept bobbing in and out of consciousness.

"Stay wit me, Merle!" Daryl yelled. You can't fucking die on me, he thought. You just can't!

"Daryl…" Merle mumbled. "Daryl…stop."

"NO!" Daryl cried, still trying to slow the bleeding. He heard the crack in his voice and he could feel the sweat rolling down his brow. He felt a strange burning sensation in his eyes: tears.

"Daryl, stop," Merle calmly whispered. The fever was quickly doing him in. "Stop. I'm a goner. It's too late."

"No, it's not!" Daryl exclaimed. He stopped to look at his brother in the face. "I can fix it!"

Merle gave a weak laugh. "You can't do anything, baby brotha. I'm gone…Shit, I'm burning alive. Maybe you oughta kill me now. Put me out of my misery."

Daryl shook his head. "No." He stated. "I'm not doing that…I'm not gonna do that. Listen, Merle. Yer gonna make it."

"Dammnit…No - you listen, Daryl!" Merle exclaimed which sent him into a fit of coughs. After he recovered he said:

"Yer gonna have to kill me. Sooner or later. Don't let me come back as one of those things. Promise me that."

Daryl felt himself crack. He couldn't hold it in any longer. All his life he had been told not to cry. Men don't cry. However, there he was, a forty-one year old grown ass man, crying his eyes out.

"Don't pussy out on me," Merle said. "Quit that ballin'. Man up, _Darlena_. Time's runnin' out."

"I…I…I…can't…do…it…" Daryl sobbed.

He hated how emotional he suddenly was. Why couldn't he just turn off the emotions like he was so used to doing? He hadn't cried in years. He had forgotten how much it hurt to cry. He felt a hand gently on his shoulder. It was Merle's.

Merle whispered: "I want you know…well, I think you know what I wanna say. You've been a damn good brotha. I wish I could have been a better one for ya. See ya 'round, kiddo."

Merle grew very weak. His hand slowly fell off Daryl's shoulder. Daryl caught his brother's hand before it hit the ground. He held on to it, watching Merle's chest rise and fall, his breathing coming to a halt, his muscles going limp, his head tilting to one side, his eyes closing for good.

Daryl waited. He released Merle's hand and pressed his ear up to his chest. No heartbeat. He grabbed his wrist and felt. No pulse.

Strangely, the tears had stopped. Daryl sniffed and wiped his eyes with the back of his hand. Reluctantly, he pulled his hunting knife out of the holster and did what had to be done.

"Sorry, brotha."

**...**

He turned the truck around and went down a county road. He drove it until the road ran out; any further and he'd go straight into the skinny, tall pine trees. Daryl sat with the engine idling, entertaining the idea of ramming the truck into the trees just for the hell of it. If the impact was hard enough he'd be ejected through the windshield and go splat on a trunk. Maybe he'd get even luckier and break his neck in the process - wouldn't that just put an end to all this bullshit?

Daryl rubbed the stubble on his chin, revved the gas pedal with his foot. He thought about it once more before finally pounding his fists on the wheel and angrily killing the engine. He couldn't do that. That was the chicken-shit thing to do. If Merle were here, he'd be laughing his ass off, calling Daryl "_Darlena_", "pansy-ass", and all the other strange terms of endearment his older brother liked to use.

Only Merle wasn't there anymore. His body was in one of the sleeping bags Daryl found. Daryl carefully zipped his brother in the bag and put him on the truck bed. He needed to find a place to bury the only family member he ever had left. He needed to find a place to stay, for himself.

Daryl left the truck, crossbow on his back, and set off into the woods. He found nothing for miles, killing a few squirrels and rabbits - he didn't realize how hungry he was until he spotted the critters. He came to an opening and up ahead he saw what at first he thought was a solitary barn judging by the brick-red rooftop.

Upon approaching, he saw it was a house. It looked abandoned and centuries old, possibly from the antebellum era. All the windows were boarded up. Vines swallowed up the right side of the front of the house. Daryl tentatively placed a foot on the front porch step and the creaking noise gave him goose bumps. His crossbow aimed and ready, if necessary, but he expected more to see the ghost of a Confederate widow in there than any eaters.

He tried the one of the wooden double doors but it was stuck. The other one gave a little and with a push from his shoulder, he shoved his way inside. The foyer was dark, dusty, and more than eerie. He cautiously examined the first floor, finding nothing but more emptiness and dust. When he went to check up upstairs he heard a squeak. He turned to see something scurry across the floor and disappear. It was just a mouse. The bedrooms upstairs were boarded up and locked. No matter how hard he tried to bust through, they wouldn't budge. He assumed the bedrooms had been locked for years and if he couldn't get in nobody else could. The bedroom on the first floor would work just fine for him.

As Daryl descended the stairs he noticed how wobbly the railing was and just before the end of the stairs, his foot landed on a sweet spot and went right through the step.

"Dammnit!" He exclaimed. He pulled his foot out and after waving away all the dust it kicked up, he decided to never use the stairs again. There was nothing up there anyway.

He went back to where he left the truck. Daryl took what he absolutely need the most and left the rest.

It was heavy load, carrying all those supplies, the shovel and Merle's body. He had to stop for rest several times before he made it back to the house. He dug a grave for Merle quickly, knowing daylight was running out.

Daryl took a wrong turn during a hunting trip next the day and ended up going a little bit further west than he intended. He pulled the binoculars from his backpack and scanned the land. It was a nice piece of property somebody owned. The house was white with a forest green rooftop and it looked antebellum as well although a lot better preserved and renovated. There were definitely people living there. They had a stable, a barn and a chicken coop.

A chicken coop, Daryl thought, the corners of his mouth turning up into a rare smile.

He watched the farm for the next couple of hours. He eventually spotted the people he knew that just had to be there. There was a couple of farm hands: a big middle-aged man and a teenaged boy wearing a straw cowboy hat. A middle-aged blonde woman with curly hair. Somebody came trotting in on horseback. It was a young woman, possibly in her mid-twenties, with shoulder-length reddish-brown hair. She dismounted the horse and gave the reins over to the teenaged boy. The two of them shared a few words, smiled at each other, and parted ways. The young woman waved to the older man and woman, probably husband and wife and they waved back.

Daryl saw the screen door flutter open and an old man appeared on the porch step. He was older than the first man, with white hair and wearing suspenders. Somebody else followed behind him - another girl, this one was a bit younger than the first, another teenager perhaps. She had golden blonde hair swept up into a ponytail and the brightest green eyes. They embraced, smiled and laughed and went inside the house. The couple and the teenaged boy followed behind. They all looked relatively happy. Daryl wondered, bitterly, if he should go down there and let them know the world had apparently ended.

His eyes fell back on the chicken coop. He smirked again as he thought, sometimes a man can only eat enough squirrels.


	3. What Do You Want From Me?

**Thank you for all reviews, favorites, and follows! :)**

Chapter Three: What Do You Want From Me?

Beth shifted in bed. Slowly her green eyes fluttered open. Her head was still foggy from the sleep. What time is it?, she wondered. She glanced over to her right to look at the antique clock that sat on her dresser drawer by her bed. Only the antique clock wasn't there, there was no dresser drawer, and she wasn't in her bed. She was in some strange dark and dusty room. The ceiling was covered with cobwebs. The only window in the room was boarded up. The mattress she lay on felt like a cardboard box.

Beth went to move but found her hands and feet were bound by rope. She went to scream but discovered her mouth was gagged by a dirty, red bandanna.

Is this a terrible nightmare I can't wake up from?, she panicked.

Beth thrashed around on the bed, kicking up dust from the mattress as she twisted and turned. She fell off the bed with a thud and squirmed around on the floor like a fish out of water.

She kept trying to scream for her father, Maggie, Jimmy - _anybody _but it was all in vain. Soon she heard footsteps approaching. She raised up to see the figure of a man in the doorway looking down on her. Her eyes grew to the size of saucers. He started toward her and Beth immediately went into fight or flight mode. If her hands were free, she'd throw anything she could find at him. However, her hands were not free and the room was bare except for the ancient bed. Instead, she used her bound feet to scoot as far back away from him as possible. She felt like a helpless mouse being backed into a corner by a cat as he came closer and there was nowhere else to go.

He paused for a minute, hovering just right above her before he abruptly crouched down and said:

"I'm gonna take this bandanna off yer mouth. Don't scream."

That voice!, Beth thought. I've heard that voice somewhere…but where?

"Hey," He said, a little more firmly. "Didja hear me, girl? I'm gonna take this off. Don't bite me again or I swear to God you_ really _ain't gonna like me!"

Bite him "again"?, Beth wondered. Then it all came back. Last night…the chicken coop…the thief…the bat… the struggle…the blackout. How did I end up here? Did he…did he…_kidnap _me?!

The idea panicked Beth and as soon as the man removed the gag from her mouth she screamed despite his order not to. He quickly shoved the bandanna in her mouth, once again even in the darkness, his blue eyes were on fire.

"What did I just tell ya?!" He exclaimed. "Hush up! Ain't nobody out here to hear ya holler anyways."

Beth tried spitting out the bandanna but his fingers held it in place. She considered chopping down on them but almost as if reading her mind, he produced a large knife out of nowhere. The blade had to be at least ten inches long and Beth embarrassingly thought she was going to end up pissing her pants out of sheer fear.

"_Don't. Even. Think. 'Bout. It_." His drawl stressed every word.

Reluctantly, Beth nodded to show she clearly understood.

He released the hold on the bandanna and pulled it from her mouth. He used the knife to saw through the ropes binding her hands together.

"I ain't gonna hurt 'cha," He explained as he worked.

When he freed one of her hands, Beth impulsively used it to hit the side of his head as hard as she could.

"Aw, shit!" He cried as he fell over, more in shock than in pain.

Beth tried desperately to untie the other hand but the rope was wound too well.

She heard him scuffling around in the dark, not quite sure where he went or what he was up to now but she didn't care. She had to get away from him somehow.

As she used her bound legs to pull herself across the room, she felt a hand grip her shoulder and slam her on the floor. The wooden floors squeaked as the man swiftly straddled her and held the knife up to her cheek.

They were nose to nose when he said:

"For the last goddamn time," She could hear the impatience in his voice. "I ain't gonna hurt 'cha. But if you try anything else with me…And I mean - _anything_- I _will _defend myself. Is that clear?"

Hey, I'm the victim here, man, not you!, Beth scoffed inside her head. She nodded instead.

"Good," He replied, flatly. He moved off of her and on to her side and began cutting the rest of the rope off of her hands.

"Who are you?" Beth asked. "What do you want from me?"

When he didn't answer, Beth realized she was no longer afraid; just irritated.

"My daddy's gonna come looking for me, you know," She told him, wincing at how juvenile her voice sounded but she couldn't shut up.

"He's got a shotgun, too… And I've got a boyfriend that's gonna kick your ass."

She wasn't exactly sure if Jimmy was capable of kicking anybody's ass but the threat sounded good.

"And my sister knows how to shoot as well." She added, lastly. "Trust me; you don't want a piece of her!"

The man snickered as he sawed through the last layer of rope. Beth felt like her wrists could finally breathe again. She eagerly rubbed away the burn marks.

"How 'bout them apples?" The man replied, sarcastically. "Tell ya what: yer daddy, yer lover-boy, and yer sis can come get a piece of me anytime they want. That is, if they can find me first."

"Oh, they _will_," Beth insisted, despite having no idea where she was or if anyone was looking for her.

They have to be looking for me, right?, She wondered. She remembered the new people that showed up the day before last and the wounded little boy and lost girl - now they had two lost girls on their hands.

My father is going to lose it, Beth concluded, imagining Hershel going bat-shit crazy when he finds out his youngest daughter has been kidnapped on top of everything else. Beth thought about the new group from Atlanta, looked up toward her kidnapper, who was now picking up the pieces of rope.

"Hey," She said. "There's also a bunch of other people on my farm. They'll come looking for me, too. You better be scared."

Even in the dark, Beth could tell the man was trying hard not to laugh.

"Who are they, distant kinfolk?" He joked. "You ain't foolin' me, girlie. You just met those people. No more than a day and a half ago."

Beth gasped. He had been watching her family's land for a while now. He knew she was bluffing.

"Who are you?" Beth whispered. "What do you want from me?"

The man hesitated in the doorway, fidgeting with the rope he cut.

"I don't want anything from you," He answered lowly, disregarding her first question.

He turned to leave before she could say anything else. Beth gaped at his retreating back. There was an outline of something on his back. Beth wasn't sure but it seemed to be in the shape of wings.

"Hey!" She called out. "Where are you going? Are you gonna untie my feet?!"

There was no reply.


	4. Fasten Yer Seatbelt

**Thank you for all the reviews, favorites, and follows!**

Chapter Four: Fasten Yer Seatbelt

Beth spent the night trying to get the ropes off her feet. She broke off one of the rusty wire springs sticking out of the mattress and was using it to try to cut through the rope but it barely made a fiber break.

"Yer gonna need something sharper than that," A voice said.

Beth looked up and saw the man was back and he was coming toward her with the terrifying knife in his hands again. He knelt by her feet and began to saw through the rope. He barely started cutting before he paused and looked up at her.

"You better not kick me once I cut this off." He warned her. "If you try anything, I'll bash yer teeth in, got it?!"

For a guy who kept saying he wasn't going to hurt her, he sure sounded serious with the " I'll bash yer teeth in" part. Beth nodded and waited for him to finish freeing her.

When he was done cutting, he pulled the ropes from her feet and finally Beth felt like she could relax a little bit despite still being trapped in a creepy, strange house with a creepy, strange man.

Abruptly, he stood, turned and left.

OK? Beth wondered. What am I supposed to do now? Just leave? She sat there, waiting for his return. About five minutes passed before she decided to carefully stand up and creep toward the door.

The bedroom led directly out into a foyer where the man sat on the floor next to the front door, fiddling with something in his lap. Upon closer look, Beth realized it was the weapon she saw bouncing on his back the night she caught him sneaking on her land. It was a crossbow.

A yellowing floral wallpaper covered the windows surrounding the front double doors but it didn't stop a little bit of daylight shining through. For the first time, Beth got a good look at the mystery man.

He had short, scruffy dark brown hair. There was a little bit of stubble on his chin and the makings of a faint mustache on his upper lip. On his left side there was a mole right above his top lip that Beth almost wanted to go over and touch but instead she used her better judgment and decided that would not be a good idea. His face looked worn and tired: like he'd seen a lot, not just in the past few months but for all of his life. Nevertheless, it was a handsome face.

He wore a black leather vest with a faded brown plaid button shirt underneath with the sleeves torn off. His muscular arms were tan like the rest of his skin. There were a few tattoos on his inner left arm. His pants looked like they may have been khaki at one point but now were stained with the colors of grass, dirt and blood. He looked to be about in his late thirties or early forties, give or take. He kind of reminded Beth of a few of her father's and Otis' drinking buddies that used to come over sometimes. Or maybe he was like an older version of those guys back in high school that used to run out to their jacked-up trucks right after the last bell, crank Lynyrd Skynyrd or AC/DC and peel out of the parking lot leaving tire marks behind. The "redneck boys", Maggie would call them.

"Take a picture," He drily commented, still concentrating on his crossbow. "It'll last longer."

Beth shrugged. "OK…So what now? Should I just be on my way then?"

She started toward the door but immediately one of his arms shot out and he put his hand protectively on the door.

"You ain't going nowhere," He stated. "Sit down and shut up."

Beth scoffed, putting her hands on her hips.

"You can't keep me here," She told him, defiantly.

She knew she was cruising on thin ice; she barely knew the man and there was still no telling what he was capable of doing to her.

"You said you didn't want anything from me so why are you keeping me?" Beth asked. When he didn't answer she thought up another question.

"Why did you kidnap me in the first place?"

His eyebrows rose when she used the word "kidnap" and he actually looked surprised - like he just realized that was indeed what he did.

"Well," He began. "I couldn't just leave you there."

"Leave me where?" Beth asked, and then it dawned on her that he was talking about by the chicken coop where they fought.

"But why not?" She insisted. If she had been him, she would have left her opponent there, took off running and never would have dared to come back.

"It doesn't matter," He replied. He focused his attention back to his crossbow.

"It _does_ matter," Beth said. Once again, she hated the tone her voice had taken. When he kept ignoring her, she said:

"They'll come looking for me. If I don't get away from you first."

Suddenly, the man lost it. He tossed his crossbow angrily to the side and was on his feet and in her face before she could bat an eye.

"You ain't going _nowhere_!" He bellowed. "You wouldn't even know how to get back there if you tried. And as for yer people: fine! Let 'em come looking. I'll be waiting. You ain't scaring me, little girl. Stop wasting yer breath."

He turned and picked up the crossbow. To Beth's surprise, he opened the front door and walked out. The sunlight streaming in made her eyes hurt after becoming so accustomed to the dark house. She shielded her eyes from the glare of the sun and watched him standing in the open field. The leather vest had the wings on the back like she first guessed they were. He was adjusting the strap on his crossbow. She could also see two holsters on his belt: one with a pistol in it and the other with the large knife, now she recognized as a Bowie hunting knife.

He surprised her again by heading toward the woods.

Where is he going now?, Beth wondered. This guy is a freak. He kidnaps me, tells me he's not going to hurt me, tells me he wants nothing from me but refuses to let me leave? Now, he's just walking away? Like he's expecting me to just obediently stay here until he comes back?

How stupid can that guy be?, she wondered as her eyes scanned the land in front of her. He was right about one thing, however: she had no idea where she was. The house was surrounded by lush, green foliage and the woods. She had no way of knowing which direction the farm was or how many miles away.

She took a step out onto the front porch and decided to make a break for it anyway. He was almost to the woods now but his steps had slowed down considerably. Beth took another step but kept watching the man's retreating back.

He knows what I'm thinking, Beth realized. He knows what I'm about to do. This is some of kind of twisted game…some kind of test. He's walking away expecting me to run. He knows this area better than I do. He'll chase me down and bring me right back.

Beth hesitated. She noticed he was paused now; his back still turned but he was at a standstill just waiting for her next move.

Beth sighed. She stepped off the porch and ran toward him. She caught up to him, chest heaving, trying to catch her breath.

He glanced over at her, considered her for a moment and said:

"Good girl…_smart_ girl."

Beth glared at him, not so much out of hate but out of annoyance.

"Yeah well," She said. "Thanks. Since we're going to be stuck together for a while…I might as well tell you: I'm Beth."

She could of swore she seen the corner of his mouth trying to curl up into a sort-of smile.

"Daryl," He replied.

**...**

Beth gawked at the number of squirrels Daryl had strung up on his belt. The number had to be well over the legal limit but Beth was pretty sure nobody was counting anymore. She followed next to him, winding through the woods, all the while fascinated by everything he did. Beth had known hunters before, Otis was a hunter, but she was certain he never hunted like this man did. In a way, Daryl made her think of a caveman: like it was a primal instinct, it was something he always did to survive and not just for a hobby or for when the world ended.

Every time he raised his crossbow to take aim at something, she'd find herself staring at those arms of his. She kept considering touching them like she thought about touching his mole and then she'd immediately try to shake the idea from her brain.

I wonder if anybody has ever thought about randomly touching some part on my body?, Beth thought. And how would that make me feel? Probably, a little more than freaked out…

"Hey, did ya hear me?" Daryl asked.

Beth snapped back to reality. "What?"

"I said…" He sounded irritated. "When we get back, yer gonna help me skin these."

He was referring to the squirrels he killed. Beth took a look at the dead rodents hanging from his belt, all bunched together like a cluster of grapes. She crinkled up her nose and shook her head.

"No. I don't want to do that," She said, simply.

Daryl grunted. "I wasn't asking ya. I'm telling ya. Yer gonna learn whether you like it or not."

He gestured with his head for her to follow him. "This way," He muttered and turned to start walking.

Beth stood in place, confused. "But we came from this way…" She told him, pointing behind her.

"I know a shortcut," He called over his shoulder not even bothering to glance back.

Beth hesitated. Once again, she considered taking off in the opposite direction but another part of her said to cooperate with him and maybe he'll let her go. Kind of like a prisoner being let go for "good behavior".

Together they crossed a shallow creek on the way back. Beth looked at the rippling water slowly streaming beneath her and realized how thirsty she was. She paused for a minute, squatted down and scooped up some water. She had to drink it quickly before it ran out through her fingers. When she was finished, she stood up and saw Daryl on the other side watching her, curiously.

"Ya know," He said. "You coulda just asked. I've got a canteen on me."

Beth wiped her mouth and nodded but she wasn't sure if she really wanted to drink after him.

They climbed up a steep incline and Daryl muttered something about "being almost there" but Beth didn't care. She was tired, hungry, and missing her family. She carefully slowed down her steps and let Daryl trail ahead. She watched him completely disappear into the brush and the urge to run struck her again, this time more powerfully than ever.

She took off as fast as she could go. All those years of softball came in handy now. Just think of the farm as home plate, Beth told herself. Who did he think he was? He thought he could just make me stay by just ordering me to? Screw that. Screw him. I'm outta here. I'll find my way back. He might know the area better than me but I'm younger and I can run faster. And when I get back, I'm going to tell Daddy, Maggie, Jimmy, Otis -shit, I'll even tell those jokers from Atlanta exactly where to find his ass. He'll be sorry.

**...**

I'll be goddamned. Daryl thought. She did it. The silly bitch is actually gonna try to do it! Damn, just when I was starting to peg her as smart she goes and pulls this bullshit. She thinks she can fool me. Doesn't matter, though. Fasten yer seatbelt, girlie. It's gonna be a bumpy ride…


	5. The Hard Way

**Thank you for all the reviews, favorites and follows. :)**

Chapter Five: The Hard Way

Beth flew through the woods, knocking foliage out of the way and trying not to trip over the forest debris on the ground. She knew Daryl was running right alongside her among the trees. Out of her peripheral vision she could see the streak of lightning he'd instantly become, gaining on her every second, trying to get ahead.

Beth made a sharp turn to the right and spotted a solid tree trunk to hide behind. She dodged behind the thick trunk, found a heavy rock nearby, picked it up and waited for him. She was beginning to think she outran him until she heard the unmistakable drawl issue a warning:

"I wouldn't do that if I were you."

She couldn't see him but his voice was so close it gave her goose bumps.

"Leave me alone!" She yelled, still griping the rock in her hands, chest heaving, and sweat dripping down her brow.

She glanced around the tree trunk but saw nobody there. It's another mind game, Beth determined. He's still out there somewhere.

"I'd move away from that tree if I was you," Daryl's voice came again, this time even closer.

It made Beth jump slightly. She glanced all around but there was still no trace of him. She had more than enough of this.

"Show yourself!" Beth cried out to him, frustrated. "You think you know everything, don't you?"

She hated it whenever Maggie patronized her and she didn't like it coming from some stranger either.

"Fine," His answer came back and when Beth turned to look she found him standing only a few inches away from her. Startled, she jumped, dropped the rock and stared at him in disbelief.

"What are you, a _ninja_?!" She exclaimed.

He shrugged, disregarded her comment, and gestured to the tree she stood next to.

"Get poison ivy, fine. I don't care. Just don't come crying to me 'bout it."

Beth's eyes widened as she looked down and spotted the poisonous vine next to her feet. She quickly hurried over to Daryl but not looking him in the eye. She didn't know which was more humiliating: the failed escape attempt or almost contracting an itchy rash all over her body in the process of checked her arms and hands.

She could feel Daryl's blue eyes on her as she heard him say:

"I don't think ya got any on you. Ya got lucky."

They stood there in silence for a moment. She was waiting for him to start yelling at her but it never happened. Instead, he mumbled a "C'mon" and motioned with his arm to follow.

They were almost back to the creek when a shrill scream echoed throughout the woods.

"What was that?!" Beth cried.

She looked to Daryl but he wasn't looking at her. Beth thought maybe she'd see his ears move in different directions to track the sound the way animals do, the way he become so intent and alert.

There was another scream, this time it was so desperate, it made Beth's blood run cold.

"They're at the creek," Daryl concluded. The crossbow was off his shoulder and cradled in his arms in a single swift motion.

"Let's go!" He commanded.

**...**

Across the creek there was somebody on the ground, a young girl. She was screaming and crying, trying to get away from one of those infected people. "Walkers", Beth suddenly remembered hearing the people from Atlanta calling them. Beth could tell something was wrong with the girl, every time she moved, she'd wince in pain. The infected person kept stumbling toward her and the girl looked like she was just about to give up the fight.

"Go get the girl," Daryl said. "I'll get the eater."

_Eater_?! Did everybody have their own nickname on what to call those things? Beth wondered as she did what he said and made a beeline for the girl, splashing through the shallow stream.

She could see Daryl moving the opposition direction. He whistled loudly at the infected, or sick, or "walker", or "eater" or whatever it was called.

It turned its attention to Daryl, made a hissing noise and came toward him.

Beth crouched down beside the little girl, who was still on the ground, sobbing uncontrollably.

"Hey, there…It's OK," Beth tried to console the girl but noticed her own voice was trembling.

The little girl slowly turned her head and lifted her brown eyes to look at Beth.

"Who are you?" She wailed. "Where I am? I wanna go home! I want my mommy!"

The girl cried harder. Tentatively, Beth touched the girl's hair: what used to be a strawberry blonde color was now matted with mud, leaves, grass, twigs, and blood.

"You're gonna be all right now," Beth said but she gasped as soon as she pulled back the girl's hair and saw a chunk of flesh had been bitten out of her left shoulder. The gash was bleeding down all over the girl's blue shirt with a rainbow on it.

Beth heard something snap, a whizzing sound followed and she glanced up to see the infected person with a bolt sticking through his head. When the body dropped, she saw Daryl standing a few feet away still aiming his crossbow at the corpse.

Beth turned back to the girl. She was gripping a doll in her hands. It had a plush body, button eyes, and yarn for the hair.

Beth felt her jaw drop when she realized who she was looking at. Strawberry blonde hair, blue T-shirt with a rainbow, a handcrafted doll…

"Oh..my.. God" Beth whispered.

"It hurts," The girl moaned. "It hurts_ sooo _bad! I want my mommy!"

Beth felt herself growing panicky. She glanced up to see Daryl crouching down next to the infected person he killed. His back was turned, she couldn't see what he was doing but she could tell he had his knife out and his arms were making a cutting motion.

"Daryl!" Beth yelled. "Daryl, come here now! I need you!"

Her shouts fell on deaf ears. Now is _not_ the fucking time to ignore me!, Beth mentally screamed at his back. She always tried not to cuss, like the good Southern Baptist girl she was raised as, except for the times she really meant it.

Beth touched the little girl's tear stained cheek.

"Shhh…You're gonna be OK...Hey, listen to me, sweetie. Is your name Sophia? Is your mommy's name Carol?"

There was the tiniest flicker of light in the girl's brown eyes.

"I'm Sophia," She confirmed. "You know my mommy? Where is she?"

"_Daryl!_" Beth exclaimed again.

He stood up, pocketed something and came over. He looked down on the girl, Sophia and his face grew dark.

"Christ," He muttered, staring at Sophia's bite mark. "It's too late."

Beth gaped at him. "What?!" She cried. "What do you mean 'it's too late"?! No, it's not! You know lots of stuff; you can fix this, can't you?!"

Daryl scoffed. "Oh, I know "lots of stuff", huh? Twenty minutes ago you accused me of that like it was a bad thing."

Beth eagerly tugged on his shirt.

"Forget about what I said!" She pleaded. "We have to help this girl! We have to! You don't understand…she's…she's…"

"You know her?" Daryl questioned as he knelt down to take a better look at the damage.

"Those people on my farm…" Beth began, her voice shaking. She could feel her body shaking, too, and wished she could control it. "They were looking for this girl right here. Her mother is one of those people! We have to get her back to my farm!"

Daryl wrinkled his brow and appeared to be thinking. Why would you even take the time to consider it?, Beth thought. What is there to think about?!

He reached out and gently touched the girl's forehead. Sophia titled her head slightly at Daryl's touch and acknowledged his presence.

"It hurts," Sophia whined. "I want my mommy…please…I'm so tired…it hurts."

Beth heard Daryl take short gasps of breath. She glanced over at him. He ran his hand hard over his face. She thought his blue eyes were glistening with tears but then he blinked and they appeared to be dry.

"We can't go back to your farm," He stated, firmly.

Beth gaped and then glared.

"This isn't about me anymore! This is a little girl's life we're talking about here!"

"Yeah, what's left of her life, Beth!" Daryl snapped.

Beth blinked, surprised, not just from the harshness of his words but also from his first time usage of her name.

"She ain't gonna make it." He told her. "Even if we tried, she'd die on the way. She ain't got the fever yet but when it hits her -" He snapped his fingers. "Boom. She'll be done for."

Beth shook her head. "No! She'll make it! My dad…he…he's a doctor. Well, a veterinarian, actually. But he knows how to heal people! He does! He says the bitten people are just sick. They don't know what they're doing because they're sick. They just need to be cured!"

Daryl stared at Beth so hard she thought he was going to burn a hole right through her.

"Sorry to be the one to tell ya this," He said, coolly. "But yer daddy is full of shit."

Beth jumped to her feet.

"That does it!" She screamed. "That does it! _That-fucking-does it!"_

She screamed so hard she felt her throat go dry. She didn't care. She was tired of this backwoods freak and his attitude. She started hitting him anywhere she could: arms, chest, she even went for his face but he blocked those shots…she didn't care. She didn't care how he'd retaliate either, which he didn't do at all, for some reason he only stood there and let her rage on him.

Maybe he's trying to make a point that I'm not hurting him with my hits, Beth thought. Maybe I'm not. Oh, but I wish I really could hurt him. I'd hurt him _good_. Hurt him for dragging me out here, for holding me captive for nothing, for calling my daddy a liar and mostly for giving up on this poor child.

"Are you through yet?!" He bellowed after her last hit.

Beth heaved heavily. She stood square in front of him, her hands balled into fists so tight she knew her knuckles were turning white. Tears stung her eyes. Her body shook with so much rage it made her teeth chatter. She glared at his throat, thinking she'd love to rip it open. What is it about this man that brings out the absolute worst in me?!, she asked herself.

Sophia moaned on the ground. Beth hastily turned around and went to her side.

"Lemme ask you something…_Beth_," Daryl practically spat her name out. She refused to look at him but could feel him circling around her and the little girl.

"Is yer daddy planning on coming up with this miracle cure? Because the government sure as shit ain't! Listen to me, girlie! There's _nobody_ left. Trust me - _I know_! FEMA's gone, the CDC is gone, the military basically just said: "Fuck it" and checked out. Everybody has _checked-the-fuck-out_! Nobody is doing _shit _anymore 'cept for trying to stay alive."

Beth stood to her feet. She reached down and helped Sophia stand as best she could. Beth slung the little girl's arm over her neck, wrapped her arm around her waist and pulled her close.

"What the hell do you think yer doing?!" Daryl protested.

Beth didn't listen. It was her turn to ignore him this time. She was going to back to the farm. Back home to Daddy, Maggie, Jimmy, Otis and Patricia. Sophia was going to see her mother again. She would get well. Finally, Beth would get away from this asshole that kidnapped her and never see his face again. Everything was going to be fine.

"Hey!" Daryl called out.

Beth kept walking, holding on to the limping Sophia by her side.

"It's OK, Sophia," She whispered to the little girl. "We don't need him. We'll make it. I promise."

"Hey! I'm talking to you, girl!"

The tone of his voice made her pause. Beth slowly turned around, keeping Sophia steady.

"What?!" She snapped at him.

Daryl was still standing where she left him. He glared at her for a moment, smirked and then shook his head.

"Your farm is west of here. You're going the wrong way. Go that way," He pointed the direction.

"Here," He pulled something from his pack and threw it at her feet. Beth looked down and saw it was a pocket knife.

"That's for when the girl dies on you. When she turns, go for the head. That's the only way to do it. _Sayonara_, sucker. Have a nice time in la-la land."

Daryl walked away leaving Beth speechless.

**...**

Man, I thought she was smart, He thought. Well, she's gonna get schooled now. I tried. I tried to tell her. It ain't that I don't want the little girl to live. I do. I hope she does but the truth is: she won't. Beth won't listen to reason. I'll let her learn the hard way. She asked for it.


	6. Breakdown

**I know I haven't been very clear about why Daryl kidnapped Beth but I promise to make it clearer as the story goes on. Sorry if he was really harsh in the last chapter. This chapter is my favorite one I've written so far for this story. Thanks for reading and sticking with me! :)**

Chapter Six: Breakdown

Beth wasn't sure how far she and Sophia walked but had a gut feeling it wasn't very far. She practically dragged the weakening little girl alongside of her.

"Hang on, Sophia," Beth whispered to her.

Beth stopped to try to carry the girl in her arms. Sophia was a slip of a girl, maybe ninety pounds tops but there was no way Beth could carry her all the way back.

When Beth went to put her down, Sophia staggered trying to maintain her balance and then collapsed to the ground with a moan.

Beth knelt by Sophia's side.

"It's OK," Beth said. "We'll just rest for a minute,"

Beth glanced around and noticed it was late afternoon, judging by how low the sun was getting. Daylight was running out and soon they'd be two girls, one with a severe injury, out in the middle of nowhere with nowhere to go.

Sophia moaned again, followed by a coughing fit. Beth panicked.

"Sophia! Sophia!" Beth cried.

She didn't know what to do except put her hands on the girl and try to comfort her as best as possible. When Beth touched Sophia's forehead, the fever stung her hand so bad it made her shrink back.

"Oh my God, Sophia…" Beth whispered, hopelessly.

What Daryl gloomily predicted was becoming true.

Sophia wasn't responding anymore to Beth's words. The little girl's frail, worn out body trembled. Her coughing ceased followed by little short, gasps for air.

Beth reached out and gently brushed back Sophia's matted hair. Beth almost thought the girl had a sudden re-surge of life when she heard heavy panting; only to realize it was coming from her.

Sophia titled her head barely. She lifted her eyelids and gave Beth a last look. Slowly, Sophia's brown eyes closed and her breathing vanished. Her small frame ceased trembling. All was quiet except for the sounds of the rustling pine trees overhead, a few distant bird calls, and Beth's rapid breathing.

"S-Sophia?" Beth asked. She gave the girl a little shake. No response.

Beth gasped and sat back on her knees. At first she strangely felt nothing and then the finality of it all settled in.

Beth cried. She sat on her on knees, weeping not only for the lost little girl but also for Beth's own family as well. Her hand went to her neck and found the heart pendant her mother had given her. In the chaos of the last day and a half, Beth forgot she was wearing the necklace.

Beth heard a sound behind her. She turned to see a figure emerging from the trees. She cried harder when she realized it was Daryl.

He approached her; one foot in front of the other, one step at a time. He lowered his crossbow as he got closer and saw Sophia's body on the ground.

His face was grave; his blue eyes cast down. He slung his weapon over his shoulder and he knelt beside Beth.

She waited for him to smart off to her: to tell her "I told you so" and rub her foolishness in her face but he didn't speak. She was beginning to realize that whatever she expected him to do or say; he always did the opposite.

"I'm sorry," Daryl whispered after a few minutes passed.

His head was down. He picked up a pinch of dirt, rubbed it between his fingers for a second and then let it slip from his hand.

Beth stayed sitting on her knees, despite them beginning to hurt underneath her weight. She didn't look at Daryl. She kept staring at Sophia's lifeless body and crying.

Daryl stood. He went around to the other side of Sophia's body and crouched down. He touched her cheek and stroked a strand of her hair. His hand went to his holster and pulled the knife out like it weighed a hundred pounds.

"Wait," Beth croaked.

Daryl hesitated, holding the knife above the little girl's head.

Slowly, Beth pulled herself up and went to Daryl. She tentatively put her hand over his hand that was holding the handle of the blade.

"I'll do it." She told him, soberly.

**...**

They were back at the red roof house in the woods. Daryl quickly showed Beth how to skin the squirrels. She was an emotional wreck. The last thing she wanted to do was skin an animal but he told her that was the only way she'd be able to eat tonight. She wasn't sure if she could stomach anything down after the day it had been.

Daryl said there was plenty of space in the back to bury Sophia. Initially, Beth wanted to help but he refused to let her.

Instead Beth found herself cutting incisions in the hind legs of the squirrels and cutting just above the tailbone. Daryl stressed to her the importance of not cutting off the tail because she would use it as leverage to step on while pulling up on the hind legs. The entire back side of the squirrel's fur came off and all she had to do next was slip off the remaining fur on the legs.

As she worked, Beth felt her necklace bouncing against her skin. Her fingers went to the pendant and she lifted it up to look at it. She thought of the barn. Her mother and step-brother were in there being kept alive by her father in hopes of a cure. There were also many infected neighbors and friends in there as well.

No!, Beth thought angrily. They're not "alive". They're not "infected". They're not "sick". They're dead. They're never going to be who they were again. All this damn time we kept them in there when we should have put them out of their misery a long time ago.

She threw the knife, not Daryl's Bowie but the other one he had given her, down on the ground.

Daddy lied, Beth thought bitterly. He lied to me and Maggie. Or maybe he didn't. Maybe he really is that foolish to believe Mama and Shawn could be cured. Did Maggie know? She acted like she believed in a cure but who knows? Maybe they were just trying to protect me. They always wanted to shield me from everything bad in the world, even before all this happened. They can't protect me anymore now, that's for sure!

Beth looked at the work she had done. She had completed about five of the squirrels. She looked at the remaining pile and knew she'd never get all them done. She didn't care. Instead, she let her mind wander. What was Daddy, Maggie, Jimmy and Patricia thinking now? Were they looking for her? She thought of the people from Atlanta on her farm. Did Otis and Shane ever make it back? Did Rick's son recover? Were they still looking for Carol's daughter? The thought of Sophia made Beth want to cry all over again. She suddenly remembered the doll Sophia carried and realized it must have gotten dropped somewhere along their attempt back to the farm.

From the front porch, Beth could hear Daryl's grunts as he shoveled a grave in the back. Beth hugged her knees to her chest and wished she would have held on to the doll for the dying girl. She stood up and searched for something else.

**...**

Something inside him had snapped.

He was certain of it but what Daryl wasn't sure of was when exactly it happened. Maybe it was when he wrapped up the little girl's body in a dusty old blanket he found inside the house but he knew it had started long before today. Maybe it was when Merle died. Maybe it was when he captured an innocent teenage girl and kept her out in the middle of the woods for no clear good reason…or was there a reason? Was he just not admitting it?

There _is_ a reason…I'll never say it. I'll never tell her, Daryl concluded as he pushed the shovel hard in the ground, flinging earth every which way. His arms ached from carrying the girl's body all the way back. His body screamed for rest; yet he could not be still. His mind could not be still. He told Beth earlier he was sorry. She probably thought he was referring to losing the little girl but that wasn't the only thing he was apologizing for.

He dug until he was deep into the ground. He knew he was wearing dirt like it was a second skin. It didn't bother him. He climbed out the tomb, gently lifted the girl's body and lowered her down.

The sun was setting just beyond the pines turning the sky bright orange and casting shadows over the land. Daryl began covering the girl's body - Sophia - he remembered hearing Beth call her. When the last of the dirt was thrown on top of her, Daryl stuck the shovel in the ground. He stood, resting his dry, cracked hands on the shovel's handle. His head was down. His eyes wandered from Sophia's grave to the one next to her's: Merle's.

Daryl felt his arms begin to tremble. That foreign stinging sensation burned his eyes again. He wept. He wept for Merle. He wept for the little girl like she had been his own. He wept for the all the shit he dragged Beth into. As he sobbed, he made a decision about Beth. He was going to take her back to her farm. He was going to let her go. If she asked him why, he wouldn't answer her. If she asked him again what made him do what he did in the first place, he wouldn't tell. He would never tell.

A sound behind him made Daryl jump. He turned to see Beth standing there. In her hand, she held a white flower; what he recognized as the state flower: a Cherokee rose. Her big, bright beautiful green eyes watched him curiously, yet she looked nervous as well. She looked like she was ready to bolt any second.

Daryl felt himself tense up. He thought about yelling at her. He told her not to bother him and why wasn't she skinning the squirrels like he told her to?! He felt so awkward; her catching him in this vulnerable position.

She shakily extended her arm and held out the Cherokee rose.

"It's just a little something to put on Sophia's grave," She explained, anxiously.

Daryl could only stare at the flower she held. When he looked to Beth, he saw her face grow panicky and she immediately dropped the flower, mumbled "I'm sorry," and took off running back toward the house.

He kept his eyes on her; to make sure she didn't have anymore wild hair ideas about running off again. When she disappeared from sight, he picked up the flower she dropped and set it tenderly on Sophia's grave.


	7. Southern Hospitality

**Thanks for all the reviews, favorites and follows!**

Chapter Seven: Southern Hospitality

Looks like the eccentric redneck has some emotion after all, Beth thought as she quietly chewed the squirrel meat Daryl cooked over a low burning fire. They were sitting across from each other on the floor in the foyer of the old house. A flashlight sat between them providing their only source of light. As he chewed his food, Daryl's eyes were cast down and his face seemed calm. Almost too calm to the point of looking stoic to everything that happened during the day but Beth had discovered the man had layers, lots of layers, which apparently he didn't want her or, possibly anybody else to see.

Beth kept replaying the scene over and over in her mind: how she plucked the Cherokee rose, thinking how much Sophia would have like it. Not that Beth knew Sophia at all but what little girl didn't like flowers? She found Daryl covering the grave. She wasn't exactly sure when to let him know she was there. She noticed next to where he worked, there was another mound of dirt piled up, another grave she realized. It looked like it was freshly dug and Beth was wondering who was lying next to Sophia in the ground, when she heard Daryl stick the shovel in the earth. His back was still turned to her and he placed his hands on top of the shovel's handle.

Now, she had thought. This was the perfect time to put the flower on Sophia's grave.

Beth froze when she heard the slightest whimpering and knew it wasn't coming from her. She gaped as she watched those muscular arms tremble. She heard him sniffling and sobbing. Good Lord, the man is actually _crying_!, Beth thought. She decided to turn around, to let him have some privacy, it wasn't polite to just stand there and gawk at him. She didn't know what it was, if she made a noise, stepped on a twig, or if his supernatural senses kicked in but he caught her. He turned and spotted her there.

Now, sitting on the floor of the house, Beth couldn't get his face his out of her mind. His blue eyes were reddened. His jaw dropped slightly at the sight of her there. She quickly told him why she was there and why she was holding the flower. He just stared at her. She thought he was going to kill her the way he looked at her. She dropped the flower and ran. The rest of the night was spent in awkward silence, eating their squirrel meat.

Beth couldn't eat anymore. She took a swig from the canteen, too thirsty to worry about drinking after him anymore.

"Those people on my farm were trying to get to Fort Benning," Beth abruptly said.

Her voice sounded weird. He lifted his head and met her eyes. She always hated to break the ice when starting a conversation but she couldn't stand the silence anymore. She found herself telling Daryl the story. She noticed how he tensed up when she mentioned the people came out of Atlanta and how they got trapped the highway due to a pileup of abandon vehicles and a "walker" herd.

"That's what they call them." Beth said. "They call 'em "walkers"."

She went on. She explained Sophia to him: how when the people hid, Sophia somehow got spotted by a "walker" and ran off into the woods. She told him about Otis, how he went hunting and accidentally shot a former police officer's son.

"That's who those people are," Beth said. "That's why they're on our land."

Daryl listened. He didn't say anything for the longest time. Finally he nodded his head and said:

"That's some heavy shit."

Beth blinked. She didn't know what she expected him to say but thought he could have said something better, some more meaningful than that. She bit her lip. He's right, she concluded. It really is some heavy shit. What else could anybody say about the situation?

Daryl shifted. He unfolded his legs and stretched them out before him.

"Listen, Beth," He said. "You should go get some rest. Sleep in that sleeping bag I've got in there."

He nodded toward the bedroom.

"The bed is a piece of shit. Sleeping bag is more comfy."

Beth turned to look at the room and glanced back at Daryl. She raised an eyebrow.

"How are you gonna sleep?" She asked.

Daryl stretched out even further and leaned his head against the wall.

"It's simple," He replied, resting his hands in his lap. "I don't sleep."

He gestured toward the bedroom again.

"Go on, now," He told her. "Don't worry 'bout me. I'm nocturnal."

**...**

Beth couldn't sleep. She hadn't been able to sleep for weeks even back on the farm so she didn't even know why she'd try sleeping there in the house.

She closed her eyes. She saw the faces of her family. She wanted to go home. Would this guy ever let her go home? He made it clear several times over he wasn't going to hurt her. But why wouldn't he let her leave? Maybe he's lonely, Beth wondered, her mind going to back to the other grave she saw in the yard next to Sophia's. It had to have been somebody he knew, she determined. A wife? A child? A friend? Maybe that person was all he had left and now he has nobody.

Beth shook the pity from her mind when she reminded herself that the man obviously does fine on his own. So maybe it's not loneliness?, Beth asked herself. What does he want from me? I'll just ask him, Beth thought. I'll ask him tomorrow to take me home. He has to be getting tired of me. He'll have to understand.

She unzipped herself from the sleeping bag and found her shoes. As she slipped them on, she carefully peered around the door frame. Daryl was still stretched out right by the door, the back of his head resting on the wall behind him, his hands still folded together in his lap, his eyes closed. Beth tipped-toed to where he lay. His breathing was slow and rhythmic. A few snores escaped from his nostrils.

Beth couldn't help but smile. So, he was "nocturnal", huh?, she teased him in her head. She remembered all the work he had done and it was no wonder he was passed out. She stood watching him for a moment. He looked so peaceful asleep. She wondered what he was dreaming about, if he was dreaming at all. There was that mole on the corner of his lip that still begged to be touched.

She spotted his backpack in the corner, crouched down and out of curiosity went through it. Inside, she found a Colt. 45, an Army gun, she knew it was because her grandfather used to have one. There was a box of ammo, various pocketknives, and first-aid bandages. There was the red bandanna that he wore around the bottom half of his face that made him look like a wild west outlaw that night they first encountered each other.

Beth went to rummage more through the pack, pushing the bandanna over to the side but when she did, she heard a sickening squashing sound. There was something soft and wet wrapped inside the paisley print cloth. She picked it up, placed it in the palm of one hand and used the other to unfold it.

Beth stared. She stared hard at what was in her hand. At first she thought she was hallucinating but the more she stared the more she realized she was holding a pair of human ears strung together on a shoestring. He poked holes through the cartilage and laced the shoestring through them and fastened it with a knot. It was a sick and twisted necklace.

Beth gasped and fell back on her rear. She tossed the ears along with the bandanna as far away from her as possible. She felt an uncontrollable shiver travel up and down her spine. The hair on the back of her neck stood up. She felt her skin grow goose bumps.

A snort and low murmur from Daryl made her freeze. She glanced over in his direction, expecting him to be wide awake, but he wasn't. Beth stared at the sleeping man only a few feet away from her.

She'd only known him for a day and a half. He was dirty. He was intimidating. He was callous, or so he wanted her to think. He definitely had eccentricities but he wasn't going to hurt her. Or was he? The ears were human, Beth was sure of, but they looked decayed like he got them off of a dead person. A walker, Beth realized, remembering Daryl crouching over the body of Sophia's attacker with his knife, his arms making that cutting motion.

Daryl stirred in his sleep again and Beth quickly made a decision.

**...**

She had a close call with one walker sneaking up behind her. After a fight she thought she was going to lose, she used the knife Daryl gave her to dispatch of the corpse, driving the blade into its forehead, remembering what he said about killing those things. When the body crumbled to the ground, Beth felt like vomiting at the realization she had just killed somebody. She shook her head and went on; reminding herself these people were already dead to begin with.

Maybe we're all dead; too, she cynically thought. The Colt .45 was tucked in the waistband of her jeans with the box of ammo stashed in her back pocket. She didn't know how to use the gun, if necessary, but she took it from Daryl's backpack anyway. She seriously doubted he could track her down now based off the hour head start she had on him.

Beth came out on an opening. She knew she had been going west, the way he had told her to go, keeping her back to the rising sun as she walked. Ahead there was a small town but as she approached she didn't recognize it as Senoia, the town her family's farm was located just outside of.

Across the railroad tracks stood a feed mill. The tin structure had rust all over. Dead vines covered the side of the building and the silos wore spray-painted graffiti tags.

A snarl from behind brought Beth back to the present and she turned to see a walker shambling out of the woods toward her. Behind him, she could see one more following in tow.

Beth made a dash toward the mill. She ran in between the silos only to see another walker roaming aimlessly. She dodged behind one of the silos before it could spot her and pulled the gun from her waistband. She stared at the weapon, half expecting it to magically tell her what to do. She pulled the box of ammo out of her back pocket but ended up fumbling it to the ground. Some of the bullets hit the tin side of the silo and Beth gaped in horror at her own stupidity.

I just rang the dinner bell!, she thought and soon enough, the grotesque, rotten face of a walker appeared from around the silo and charged at her. She screamed and frantically started pistol-whipping the monster with the gun. No matter how hard she hit him, his nasty, bloody teeth kept snapping at her. She was wrestled to the ground, still bashing his head in when she saw the two walkers from the woods had caught up. Beth finished off the first one and with a heave she pushed his body off of hers. The next two were closing in around her. Her hand went to her knife and she was ready to strike until gunshots rang out and echoed off the tin silos. Blood from the exit wounds splattered across her face and body as the two walkers crumbled to the ground.

Beth panted heavily and stared at the fallen bodies in shock. She lifted her eyes to see two men standing before her, lowering their weapons.

"Holy shit…" One of the men purred at the sight of her.

**...**

Fuck! Shit! I'll be goddamned, _again_! Daryl mentally screamed, as he quickly put on his gear and set off into the woods. If she had just waited, he thought. I was gonna take her back today – _this_ morning! Shit, I swear to God…

He couldn't believe he actually let himself fall asleep. It was the work I did yesterday, Daryl determined. He wondered if maybe the crying also had something to do with it, the emotional strain of yesterday and the days before finally took their toll on him and made him crash. He awakened to see Beth gone and the kitchen back door ajar. He found his bandanna tossed in the corner of the foyer, the ears on the shoestring splayed out on the floor.

So, she found the ears, Daryl thought, partially amused. Christ, is that what made her run this time?!

He tried picturing the discovery from a teenage girl's perspective and concluded she reacted normally. He knew it was a bit of a deranged thing to do but it was his business, not hers. And what the fuck was she doing in my backpack anyway?!, Daryl scoffed to himself. The Colt and the ammo for it were gone and Daryl shook his head certain she hasn't the slightest idea on how to use the weapon even if her life depended on it.

The bad thing is her life _will _depend on it, Daryl thought as he followed her tracks. She had been going the right direction until a few miles past the creek she apparently veered off course.

**...**

"I can't thank you enough," Beth gushed to the two men.

They led her inside the warehouse of the mill. Just like the house in the woods, it was old and dark but strangely it didn't frighten her. The place just seemed empty, like it had been that way for years and the sudden apocalypse had no real effect on it.

"Hey, no problem, babe." One of the guys said. His accent sounded clipped and fast and Beth instantly assumed he wasn't a local. He wore a T-shirt with a great white pictured on it with the words: Strafford Sharks.

The other man was more heavy-set than the first one, wore a lopsided beret and five 'o clock shadow. He had a shotgun slung on his shoulder. Both men appeared around the same age, possibly mid to late thirties and of Italian descent.

They offered Beth a seat on a crate and a cloth to wipe the walker blood off herself.

"I'm Dave," The first guy said, taking a seat next to her. He pointed to the other man. "That sexy beast over there is Tony."

Tony snickered, rolled his eyes at his friend and flipped him off. Dave returned the gesture and the two men went into a laughing fit that made Beth feel awkward for being there.

"So what's your story, pussy cat?" Dave asked Beth, turning his attention back to her. "What's your name? Where did you come from?"

"I'm Beth," She answered, tentatively.

She heard the other man, Tony, move behind her but he did not sit. His hovering over her made her nervous. She glanced back at him, hoping he would take the hint and either move away or sit but he didn't notice, or if he did, he ignored her.

"Beth, huh?" Dave asked. "That's a cute name. A cute name for a cute girl."

His East coast accent was charming but underneath it there was a layer of superficiality that could not be missed.

"Thanks," Beth said, although it came out more like a question.

"Where are you from?" Dave pressed. He leaned forward like he was genuinely interested.

"You're not all alone, are you? It's dangerous enough out there as it is for two old guys like us…let alone a young, sweet, pretty thing like yourself." Dave reached out and brushed her cheek with his fingertips.

Beth immediately recoiled. She felt Tony move closer behind her.

Initially, she was grateful the two men saved her but now her gut instinct told her this was not a good situation to be in.

She felt the weight of their stares upon her and realized she still hadn't answered the question.

"Oh, I just got a little lost…that's all," Beth said and cringed at how weak it sounded.

Dave kept his friendly countenance but his eyebrows narrowed slightly.

"You just got a little lost?" He laughed. "Beth, honey…What were you doing? Taking a little stroll? C'mon, don't be afraid. You got a group somewhere?"

Beth gulped. That uneasy feeling in her stomach would not go away. There was something about these men: they looked harmless on the outside but seemed so shady underneath.

"Yeah, but…" Beth trailed off when she felt the man behind her, Tony, lightly stroking the ends of her ponytail. She sucked in her breath. She went to stand but felt the big man's hand on her shoulder trying to force her to sit back down.

Dave exchanged glances with Tony and somehow non-verbally told him to release his grip on Beth. Beth watched him as he took a few steps back. Beth heard the sound of a crate scrape across the floor and turned to see Dave standing.

"Where's your group?" Dave asked, his voice still milk and honey. "You know me and Tony…We've come a long, long way. Came down from Philly. Heard there was some refugee camp in D.C. but we never even got close."

Beth nodded despite wondering what any of that had to do with her.

"So we kept hauling ass and ended up down here," Dave went on. "It's crazy out there. You don't have any idea, do ya, sweetheart? So…if you have a group somewhere by…maybe, you know…We could team up…pool our resources together."

He paused, waiting for an answer. When Beth didn't response, he shrugged his shoulders.

"C'mon, sweet pea…" He coaxed. "Show us a little southern hospitality. We help you; you help us – what do you say?"

Beth shook her head.

"I'm sorry. I can't help you," She told him, honestly.

She knew now she definitely took a wrong turn in the woods. She couldn't tell him where the farm was from here because she didn't even know herself.

"What do you mean you can't help us?!" That was Tony. Beth turned to see him glaring at her.

"We just saved your ass from those lamebrains and now you're gonna stand there and say –"

Dave calmed his friend. "Tony…Tony…Knock it off, man. Hey, c'mon, Beth, don't do this to us. Please, help us out."

"I can't," Beth said, her voice shaking. "You don't understand! I was…"

Suddenly, he dropped the façade and Beth found herself looking square into the barrel of a Sig-Saucer pistol.

"No," Dave warned. "_You're_ the one who doesn't understand."


	8. Unhinged

**This chapter is a little "cartoon-ish". I admit I'm not good at writing action scenes at all but I felt bad keeping you waiting so long. The next couple of chapters, things will kind of slow down a bit. **

**And as always, many thanks for all reviews, favorites and follows! :)**

Chapter Eight: Unhinged

Every single moment of pain she'd ever experienced in her life flashed through Beth's mind. She thought of the time when Nelly, one of the horses on the farm, stepped on her foot. The time she came down with the flu and had missed a week of school, the fights with Maggie when they were young, how her older sister would pull on her hair, the scraped knees and legs from playing softball. Beth thought not only of the times of physical pain but emotional pain as well: when Mama and Shawn died, when they found other neighbors and friends turned, a half a day ago when Beth was unable to save a lost dying little girl.

They were all painful moments in her life but none of them compared to the torment being unleashed upon her now. Beth was forced on her knees by gunpoint and her hands tied were behind her back. Tony confisicated her knife while Dave kept his pistol trained on her while he ordered her to tell him where she came from and who she was with. When Beth couldn't give him the answers he wanted, he signaled to Tony who would promptly strike her in the face with the butt of his shotgun.

Beth could hear the bones in her face cracking and she could feel the open gashes from the blows, not only tears streaming down her cheeks but blood as well. She was certain she would have a black eye. Through her sobs and pleading, Beth tried desperately to make him believe that she was kidnapped.

"_Please_!" Beth cried. "You have to believe me! I'm not lying! I live on a farm…with my father and sister and our farmhands…There was somebody stealing our chickens at night. I tried to catch him but he ended up catching me and taking me away with him. I got away but now I don't know where I am or how to get back home…_please_! You have to believe me!"

"You expect me to believe that bullshit story, girl?!" Dave exclaimed.

Beth's wails filled the empty warehouse but the two men refused to show any mercy.

"Tell us the truth!" Tony exclaimed and Beth felt him strike her with his weapon again, this time in her stomach, making her double over in pain. She fell on her side on the floor of the mill, tears and blood streaming down her face, her eyes so sore from the hits and crying she could barely keep them open.

"Get up!" Tony bellowed and when Beth didn't move fast enough he kicked her.

"Get up, you stupid cooze!" He shouted. He reached down and yanked Beth up roughly by her pony tail, causing the hair tie to slip out. He shoved her against a support beam.

Over Tony's shoulder, Beth could see Dave pacing back and forth, running a hand through his hair, his brow wrinkled.

Tony's hand wrapped around her throat as he pressed his heavy body into hers. His fingers found the heart pendant necklace and he smirked as he jerked it off. Beth squirmed underneath his weight. His face came toward hers and she twisted her head to avoid kissing him. He used his other hand to force her head still but to her surprise, he did not kiss her. He turned her face to the side and Beth felt like vomiting when she felt him run his tongue slowly up from her jaw line to her earlobe. The stubble on his face felt like coarse sandpaper and his breath reeked. She could feel him panting in her ear as she felt one of his hands slide up her shirt, his fingernails scratching her skin, his hand snaking its way underneath her bra and roughly squeezed one of her breasts.

Dave had made his way over now. He stroked Beth's loose hair as he watched Tony grope her.

Beth whimpered. The tears were following steadily now. She wanted to scream despite knowing that would only make matters much worse. She was beginning to welcome the idea of the two men killing her. I'd rather be killed than be gang-banged, Beth thought. She tightly shut her eyes and prayed it would all be over soon.

Beth felt Dave's breath in her ear as he said:

"Stop playing games. Just tell us the truth and we'll forget this whole thing happened. What do you say?" His voice had strangely gone back to the saccharine-sweet it was before and it irked her.

Beth slowly turned her head to glare at him.

"You're…you're _crazy_!" Beth spat.

Suddenly, she felt Tony's touch leave her. Both men took a step back and stared at her as if the accusation was a complete surprise.

Soon, they both burst out in a fit of laughter so maniacally it gave her chills.

Tony slapped his knees.

"Did you hear that, Dave?" He laughed. "She thinks we're crazy! We're _crazy_, man_! Crazy!_!"

Dave laughed so hard he almost fell over on his side. Beth gawked at the two thugs but nothing they did or said surprised her anymore. Their laughing only reinforced that fact that they were both insane.

When he regained composure, Dave went over to Beth. He put his hand underneath her chin and forced her to look at him square in the eyes. He lowered himself to her level and leaned in close.

"You know what, sweet pea?" He asked. "You're right. You're absolutely right. We are crazy. But you are, too. Betcha didn't know that, did ya? This world we live in now…it isn't _all_ that different from the way it was before."

He paused, bit his lip, and leaned in so close; his mouth hovered right above Beth's.

"You see," He whispered, almost tenderly. "Even the sanest people go a little crazy. Even the sanest people get a little… _unhinged_… sometimes."

Dave quickly grabbed the sides of Beth's head and roughly planted a kiss on her lips. Beth shrieked and immediately tried to head butt him but he easily dodged her. She lost her balance and fell to the floor. Soon, Dave was forcing himself on top of her, his knee pressing into her stomach, his hand trying to unbutton the fly on her jeans. They struggled on the floor together, Beth slowly succumbing to his advances; too exhausted to even try to fight him anymore.

"Hey, Dave," Tony said, a suspicious edge to his tone. Beth had almost forgotten he was there. "Did you hear that?"

Dave was still manhandling Beth underneath her shirt. "Hear what?" He asked. He paused for minute, gave Beth a look of disgust and slapped her across the face. He reluctantly stood up and turned his attention to his friend. Tony picked up his shotgun and his eyes wandered around the mill, anxiously.

"It's probably just some lame brains, Tony," Dave commented but Tony shook his head.

"Lame brains"?, Beth weakly thought. There we go again; everybody has got their own nickname for them.

"No," Tony said, still shaking his head. "I don't think this is any lame brains."

At first there was only silence; only soft sniffling from Beth on the floor. She mustered up whatever strength she had left and sat up. She, too, was trying to listen for what he could have possibly heard.

It was a rhythmic tapping. It was two slow taps followed by three quick taps. At first it sounded like it was coming from near the door but the more they listened the more it sounded like the tapping was being spread out.

"There's somebody out there," Dave harshly whispered to Tony. "Somebody knows we're in here."

"Who could it be?" Tony asked, dubious. "We picked through all the houses in the neighborhood. There wasn't anybody alive left."

"I don't know who it is." Dave said. "But I have feeling…" He paused and slowly glanced back at Beth.

"I have feeling they've come for the girl."

…

Daryl followed Beth's tracks out of the woods and near a railroad track. Damn, this girl went way off course, he thought as he crossed the tracks toward the feed mill. He wasn't planning on stopping there. The last place he thought he'd find her holing up at was at feed mill, but when he passed through the silos he spotted the walker bodies on the ground. There were unused bullets scattered among the silos and next to one of the bodies lay the Colt .45.

Daryl picked it up by the barrel and discovered the gun was still unloaded. The handle was dripping with walker blood and brains. The body next to it had its face bashed in and the other two were taken out by a gun but Daryl knew it wasn't Beth who had shot them.

Muffled angry voices made him turn toward the warehouse of the mill. I bet I can just breathe on it and it'll fall down, Daryl thought about the deteroiating building. He pressed his ear up against the door. He heard the voices of what sounded like two men but whatever they were saying was inaudible. There would be a pause and Daryl wasn't sure but it sounded like there was a third person in there, a female, he immediately assumed had to be Beth.

Daryl carefully stood up on his toes and peered into the only window on the side of the mill. The glass was frosted and only provided a blurry picture of two men standing over a girl, one of them yelling at her and the other one hitting her with his weapon.

It took every ounce of patience Daryl had in him not to bust open the window right then but instead he dropped down and breathed heavily. He had to think this through and there wasn't a lot of time to do it.

I gotta time this right, he thought. No fuck-ups allowed here…Plan it right; save the girl's life. One false move; it's gonna both hers and my ass.

From what he seen and heard, there were only two guys holding Beth captive. I need to lead one of them out here, Daryl thought.

A snarl from behind interrupted his plotting and Daryl turned to plant his Bowie knife in a walker that had been creeping around.

Shit, Daryl thought as he yanked the blade out of the corpse's skull. Ain't got time for these assholes, too! I gotta do this quick and as quiet as possible.

_Tap. Tap. Tap, tap, tap_. Yeah, that's right you sons of bitches, Daryl thought as he made himself flush with the outside wall of the mill. C'mon, c'mon, take the bait!

He held his breath as he watched the door, swing open painfully slow. He dodged behind the corner of the back of the mill but not before he got a glimpse of a large man with a beret on his head and a shotgun in his hands.

Daryl un-slung his crossbow from his shoulder, slid a bolt in the track, pulled back the string and waited. He heard the door of the mill shut but he could hear the man shuffling around. Daryl listened to his footsteps pause, picturing the man examining the body of the walker he had just put down, and look around. He heard the cock of the shotgun as he heard the man approaching the corner step-by-step.

That's it, fat boy…c'mere….Daryl thought. He could feel his eyes narrowing, his face darkening, his heart rate strangely slowing down - everything slowing down. He could feel his blood running cold at the thought about the things he was going to do to this living breathing person walking around the corner.

Don't matter if he's alive, Daryl thought bitterly. People like him…people like the other one in there…they're better off dead anyway.

…

Dave slapped Beth's face again and angrily shook her to her feet.

"Who's out there?!" He bellowed, shaking her by her shoulders.

Beth opened her mouth to protest but realized she was done talking to the moron in front of her.

How dense is this son of a bitch?!, She thought, angrily.

She spit in his face causing him to stumble backwards and blink at her in surprise as he went to wipe the salvia from the bridge of his nose.

"Oh, you're gonna _pay_ for that, _you bitch_!"

Dave rushed toward Beth, his hands balled into fists, but he stopped short. He smirked as he said:

"You know what? Screw it," His hand went to waistband and pulled out his Sig-Saucer pistol.

"You're not worth the trouble, sweet pea." He told her, maliciously, as he cocked the weapon and pointed it at Beth's head.

She closed her eyes tightly and braced herself for what came next.

At least I'll go quickly, Beth concluded solemnly. At least I'll see Mama and Shawn again…

Two gunshots rang out and Beth pictured her body crumpling to the floor. Shot point blank in face by some East coast grease-ball thug, her brains splattered on the wall and floor. Who knew what would become of her body - maybe they would toss her out somewhere to be munched on by walkers, or "lame brains", as they liked to call them.

Beth opened her eyes expecting to see heaven, expecting to see her long lost family and friends standing there but instead she saw Dave.

Beth blinked away her tears. She gasped at the shock of still being alive.

Dave was inching away from Beth, his pistol raised and his eyes widened.

"Tony?" He called out, anxiously. There was no response.

There had been gunshots, Beth was certain of it. The other man, Tony, had gone outside to check out what or who was out there.

It has to be another person out there, Beth thought. But who?

The rhythmic tapping returned causing Dave to jump. If she wasn't so emotionally and physically drained, Beth would have laughed at the sight. Dave, a few minutes ago he was a cocky, cool and collected, now, he was nervous, sweating and jittery.

"Tony?" He asked again, his voice quivering. The silence spoke for itself.

In an angry huff, he grabbed Beth, wrapped an arm around her neck and positioned her in front of him. Beth felt the cold metal of the gun muzzle against her temple.

"Listen up, asshole!" He yelled at the door. "If you've come from the girl; I've got her right here. You come through that door; you come through slow. Don't try anything stupid or I'll blow her pretty little brains out all over this floor!"

Dave let that sink in for a minute. There was an excruciating silence. The only sounds were the sounds of Beth and Dave's collective heavy breathing.

Slowly, the door opened.

With one movement, Dave released Beth and pushed her to the floor. He opened fire at the body coming through the door, nearly emptying all his rounds into him, before realizing he was shooting at Tony's dead body; a crossbow bolt protruding from his chest.

Dave screamed in horror at the sight as the body dropped and a masked figure emerged. Beth felt her swollen eyes try to widened as she recognized the red bandanna covering the bottom half of the figure's face and the necklace made of human ears swinging from his neck.

"_Daryl!" _She went to scream but no words could come out.

Dave went to fire again, only one round left in the chamber, but Daryl was quicker on the draw: a snap and a whiz split second later, a bolt pierced straight through Dave lower abdomen. He hit the floor hard screaming, cussing, writhing on the floor, pulling at the arrow but only making the pain worse.

Daryl passed Beth, casting not a single glance her direction, dropping the crossbow at her feet and kneeling next to Dave.

Beth grimaced at each blow Daryl planted on Dave's face; the sickening bone crushing sound echoed throughout the mill. Punch after punch after punch…Beth was sure she was starting to see Daryl's knuckles scuffed up and stained with blood.

Daryl stopped hitting and pulled on the front of Dave shirt, raising him up. His face looked worse than the walker Beth had pistol whipped with the Colt .45. His nose was bent to one side and one eye was beaten completely shut. He gurgled up blood and bits of teeth.

Daryl held him there for a lingering minute. Beth wondered if Daryl was finished with him. He loosened his grip on Dave's shirt just a little bit and then a single fluid motion, he grabbed Dave's head and gave his neck the slightest, quickest twist. The vile sound made Beth's stomach churn. She gagged and vomited as she watched Dave's body crumple to the floor. His body was twisted one way but his head was completely turned around, staring back at her with the one eye Daryl hadn't punched out.

Beth heard Daryl unsheathe his Bowie knife. She watched his arms making that cutting motion; he was doing to Dave the same thing he did to the walker that bit Sophia. As Beth watched Daryl, her kidnapper-turned-savior, remove Dave's ears she couldn't help but hear the thug's words repeating in her mind:

"_Even the sanest people go a little crazy. Even the sanest people get a little… unhinged… sometimes."_

When Daryl finally turned to look at her, for the first time since coming to her rescue, she met his blue eyes, eyes seemed to have turned a even darker shade of blue and realized she was just beginning to understand what the end of the world had forced people to become.


End file.
